“Is that what you think?” he bellowed. “I don’t see you as a prize or a symbol of power or anything other than Asherah!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“What am I to call you other than your name?”
I glared at him and spat, “You do not know my name.”
I immediately wished I hadn’t.
Telling Lormac that he did not know my true name hurt him, and I would have sooner scratched out my own eyes. I was trying to save him from a life bound to me, though it hurt to do so. Lormac leapt from the bed and paced for a moment, his hands flailing about as he muttered to himself. After a moment, he stopped and spoke, his voice having regained its calm.
“I understand why you don’t want me to claim you as yet,” he said. “Truly, I do. What I cannot understand is why you accepted the Sala, not once but twice, agreeing to be my mate and my queen, yet now you only push me away.” He turned and walked from the bed, then stopped and spoke over his shoulder. “All I want to do is love you, but you won’t let me.”
Love?
Lormac loved me?
That was why he was so insistent that I wear the Sala, why he wanted me to remain in Tingu?
“What?” I assumed I had misheard him. “What do you mean?” I received no answer, for he was already gone.
I hadn’t seen which door he exited, his departure having been hidden by the bed curtains, but I knew that he had retreated to the Seat. I got to my feet and followed, wearing only his tunic as I made my way down the passage, my bare feet surprisingly agile on the cool stone.
I found him standing at the rear of the great chamber with his back to me; thanks to his being bare to the waist I could see the tension in his neck and shoulders. He remained still as I approached, his head bowed.
“Lormac,” I began.
He clenched his fists and leaned forward, his forearm braced against the wall. For a time, I just stood there staring at him. Why hadn’t I known that Lormac loved me? Many, many nights, I had lain awake wondering why he so desperately wanted to be with me, why he couldn’t manage to find a nice elf for a mate, what I had done to deserve a man like him…but love never once entered my mind. I could probably blame my oversight on my time in the doja, some torture visited upon me had destroyed some innate sense to know when someone loved you, but that was not the case. I had only myself to blame.
“I never knew,” I murmured. “You never told me.”
“Told you what?”
“That you love me.”
“I didn’t think I needed to,” he said. “But if you need it said, I love you. So much so I would relinquish my lands, my birthright… everything. If it meant I would have you.”
“Why me?” I pressed. “Why not someone else?”
“For me, there is no one else,” Lormac said. In that moment, I finally accepted that he loved me, that I deserved to have him love me. And I knew that I loved him just as madly and deeply and truly as he loved me.
I grazed my fingertips over his skin, feeling the knots in his muscles pull even tighter. Emboldened by his words, I took the final step toward him and rested my cheek against his back. My hands, palms flat against his skin, moved to his chest as I pressed my body to his.
Lormac turned around, and held my face close to his. “Little star, will you stay? Will you stay and let me love you?” Lormac’s eyes searched my face. He was surprised when I kissed him, the blood I’d drawn earlier salty against my tongue. I believe he thought I’d followed him up to the Seat to say my final goodbye when in truth I could no longer imagine being apart from him.
“Yes,” I said against his lips.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will stay with you,” I replied. “Yes, I love you. Yes, I’m honored to be your mate.” Then I kissed him again, not as a scared girl who could not bring herself to forget the abuse she had endured, but as a woman who wanted to utterly possess him. Lormac responded to my newfound passion with his own, his hands roaming over my body as if to memorize my form. Then his hands were on my waist and he again tried to lift me.
“No,” I cried, my voice reverberating off the stone walls, and he immediately halted. He touched my cheek, whispering soft, soothing words. “No,” I repeated in a softer tone, realizing that Lormac wouldn’t harm me; not then, not ever. “Here. Now.”
“Here?” he questioned, falling silent as I shed my tunic. Lormac tossed it aside and we tumbled to the ground; in another heartbeat he was thrusting into me. I hardly noticed the tears squeezing out of my eyes, but Lormac did.
“Love,” he murmured. “You‘re safe.” When I remained silent, he added, “I’ll stop.”
“No,” I said, pulling him down against me. “Now.”
I steeled myself against the coming pain, the humiliation I’d always felt in the past, but there was none of that now, not with Lormac laboring above me. I realized that I wanted him, wanted this, and I arched my back as I came, digging my nails into his buttocks as waves of pleasure cascaded over me.
Lormac slowed his pace just long enough to kiss me deeply, then he rolled onto his back and let me control our pace. I leaned back as I rode him, his hands firm on my hips, guiding me. I called his name as I reached my peak for a second time and collapsed forward on to his chest; I didn’t realize that he’d peaked as well until I noticed his slowed panting.
The Seat had reshaped itself to accommodate our lovemaking and we were ensconced in a stone cocoon, remarkably soft and comfortable considering its construction. Lormac had heaped our discarded clothing on us in lieu of a blanket. We didn’t speak and hardly moved as we held each other; after a time, I fell asleep in his arms. When the elder sun’s rays illuminated the crystal ceiling, I opened my eyes and saw Lormac smiling at me.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured as he smoothed my hair. “Well and truly claimed.”
“Does this mean I’m now your mate?”
“If you still wish to choose me, then yes.”
“That’s backwards,” I pointed out. “Among faeries, the choosing comes first.”
Lormac propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at me. “Then choose me, and I’ll claim you again. And again and again, if I need to,” he proclaimed as I laughed, my face pressed against his neck. “Will you?”
I looked up and met his pensive gaze. “Will I what?”
“Choose me.”
I propped myself up, too, and regarded him His soft gray eyes that were usually so merry but were now somber. “Are you sure you still want me?” I asked. “You would really prefer a scarred, broken faerie to a beautiful elf?”
Lormac pulled back my hair where it had fallen over my shoulder and traced some of the cruel marks. He followed one to its terminus near my collarbone, then kissed the hollow of my throat. “My star, I think you’re lovely as you are, but even if you were the scarred monster you believe you are it wouldn’t matter. I love you for your heart, not your body.”
“You really mean that?”
“I really mean that.”
“Then you are my choice,” I declared.
Lormac drew me to him and kissed me, and felt him stir against me. “And you are my only choice,” he said between kisses. “Asherah, my love, my queen.”
“Asherah is not my name,” I said. “I am Hillel.”
“Hillel. I love you, Hillel.”
Alluria speaks…
I stood outside the southern door of the Great Temple, clutching my basket of herbs and tapping my foot while I waited for it to open. It was still new for me to wake in Caol’nir’s chamber—no, our chamber—instead of within the Great Temple. Of course, there was no need for me to rush the temple door at dawn’s first light (in all my years, a patron had never experienced a dire herb-related emergency before noon), but in Caol’nir’s absence I felt the need to busy myself rather than dwell on the lack of him in our bed.
Caol’nir… the mere thought of him warmed me. We’d known each other for such a short time, and we were mates for only
a moment before he left on his quest. While I’d understood that I’d miss him terribly, I wasn’t prepared for the constant ache of his loss. I rubbed my neck, stiff from waiting overlong outside the temple, remembering how he would trail his lips across my throat…
Sarelle picked that moment to open the doors, me standing there with a foolish grin on my face. She glared before stalking away, a rustle of haughty golden silk in her wake. I entered the temple and gazed at the priestesses and novices lighting the morning incense. I didn’t miss my life as a priestess, not one little bit. The way the girls rushed about, subjected to the wills and whims of a god who may or may not answer them, not to mention Sarelle’s mood swings… No, I much preferred my role as an herbalist. I happily worked in my quiet corner, assisting those in need with poultices and teas.
I made my way toward the aforementioned quiet corner, intending to assemble little muslin bags of tea, when I caught sight of a familiar pale braid. My heart nearly stopped beating, but no, it was only Caol’non going about his morning duties. I sighed as I gazed upon my mate’s twin; I would truly give anything just to be in Caol’nir’s arms at that moment. So lost I was in my memories that I bumped into my mate’s eldest brother, dropping my basket of herbs at his feet.
“Forgive me, I did not see you.” I knelt to retrieve the small bundles. Fiornacht watched for a moment, then bent and helped.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. I looked up, more startled than I ought to have been by his simple question. It was the first time Fiornacht had spoken to me in the short slice of forever since Caol’nir had departed. I had the impression that he still didn’t approve of my union with his brother, and I was perfectly fine with avoiding him. The fact that he now seemed concerned only unnerved me.
“Yes, yes,” I answered, “I just…” I stopped speaking, took a deep breath and decided to finish my thought. I did not need the acting Prelate wondering if something was amiss in the Great Temple. “I saw Caol’non, and for a moment I thought—I hoped—he was Caol’nir.”
Fiornacht stood and helped me to my feet. “When they were small, it was near impossible to tell them apart. At times, we simply guessed who was who.”
I laughed, and Fiornacht took the basket from my hands and escorted me to the sorting table. He set the basket down, his eyes downcast. I waited for him to say whatever weighed upon his mind. It seemed that no matter what my role in the temple, I was still acting very much the priestess.
“You miss him a great deal, don’t you?” he said at length.
“I do,” I replied, but Fiornacht still wouldn’t look at me. “Do you not approve, Prelate?” Using the title got the desired reaction, and his head snapped up.
“I am not Prelate,” he clarified, “I just perform Father’s duties until his return.” He took a few steps away from the table, then stopped and stared off into the distance. Having had much experience with reluctant patrons, I began arranging my herbs and waited.
“I’ve never disapproved of you and Caol’nir,” Fiornacht said softly. “We all knew how taken he was with you, but to expect a priestess to forsake Olluhm for a man, is foolish. I…” His voice trailed off, and I glanced up. “I did not want him hurt.”
“Well, luckily for Caol’nir I’m just as foolish as he is,” I commented. Fiornacht was still staring off at nothing, or so I thought. I followed his gaze and saw that it rested upon a head of brown curls that I knew all too well.
“Serinha?” I asked, more than a little taken aback. I’d always suspected that Fiornacht was the type to entice a priestess into his bed, but the way he looked at her… Well, it was the same way Caol’nir used to look at me.
“You think less of me now?” he asked, a bitter edge to his voice. “That I spoke against Caol’nir only to hide my own misdeeds?”
“I think nothing of the sort,” I said. I probably should have at least thought him a hypocrite, but I didn’t. I knew well that love blossomed where it wished, not where it was convenient. “Fiornacht, she is still a novice. If she chooses to be with you, she is breaking no vow. You’re not doing anything wrong.” I placed my hand on his arm.
“I’m not doing anything right, either,” he said with a rueful smile. “How could I ask her to leave her calling? What if she said no?” He was silent for a moment, then he asked me something that had apparently been on his mind for some time. “How did my brother ask you?”
“Caol’nir never asked me to give up being a priestess.”
“He didn’t?” Fiornacht asked, and I shook my head. “Then why did you?”
“I wanted, more than anything, to be his,” I replied. “Caol’nir never told you?”
“He said you went into the vaults to learn how to be released. I assumed that you’d gone because he asked you.”
“Actually, he tried to forbid me from the attempt. He worried that the trials would be too much.” I gently squeezed his arm. “Love is stronger than any vow or oath, of that I am certain.”
Fiornacht glanced at me, then looked again toward Serinha. His Serinha. He caught her eye and she flashed him a quick smile before returning to her duties. Fiornacht’s face lit up; indeed, it was the happiest I have ever seen him.
“Well, ask her,” I said. “Don’t you want to know if she feels as strongly as you do?” His smile faded, and he bent his head. “You’re so like your brother,” I huffed. “Always being the noble one, always trying to sacrifice your own happiness. Did you ever once think that she may want to be with you as well?”
“If I was truly like my brother, I would dress her up as a saffira and spirit her out of Teg’urnan this very morning.”
My cheeks went hot. “He told you that?” I asked in a small voice.
“He didn’t breathe a word of it, at least not to me. It was quite apparent what was happening when neither you nor Caol’nir were anywhere to be found and the gatekeepers were jesting about the many women my brother was riding off with.” He softened his gaze. “You may have fooled them, but you did not fool my father or me.”
“Why didn’t you stop us?” I asked, only to follow his gaze back to Serinha. He didn’t stop us because Caol’nir was willing to take a risk that he feared. In that, at least, the younger brother’s bravery shone brighter. “Fiornacht, would you like me to speak to her?”
“If I cannot talk to her myself, then I must not deserve her, eh?” he countered.
The more I spoke with Fiornacht, the more he seemed like my mate in both word and deed. I wondered if his overbearing nature was really just protectiveness toward his younger brothers.
“I’ve taken up too much of your time,” Fiornacht said, “and I was sent to fetch Sarelle for the king. I bid you a good day.” I nodded, and he bowed his head. “I will say, my brother is quite lucky.”
“As am I.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
At least the storm is holding off, Caol’nir mused as he looked toward the sky. His horse fidgeted, a reflection of his rider’s state of mind. After what had seemed like an eternity of preparations, the Ish h’ra hai were finally ready to march to Teg’urnan. The name now encompassed not only the freed slaves but the elfin warriors who wished to honor of their new queen.
The small group of dark fae led by Drustan the Dark kept themselves apart from both fae and elf alike. Caol’nir was not impressed by the dark fae nor their leader. He felt that they didn’t believe Sahlgren guilty of any wrongdoing, and that they had sent their puny force only to placate the Lord of Tingu, who held rights to their kingdom. As Caol’nir looked over their meager legion, he wished they had remained in their own land.
The trolls, still insisting they couldn’t leave the north, nevertheless came to see the Ish h’ra hai depart from the Seat. Grelk’s forges had turned out gleaming swords and shields, as well as arrows and spears. Caol’nir’s own sword, with its engraved blade and jeweled hilt, looked more a piece of art than a weapon. Grelk had assured Caol’nir that the sword could cleave a mordeth’s head in one clean stroke.
After a few practice sessions that decimated many wooden targets, Caol’nir believed him.
While Caol’nir was eager to return to his home and his mate, he was not eager to return to the con’dehr. He had become something of an instructor, teaching the Ish h’ra hai, and not a few elves, better ways of combat. Caol’nir feared he would not be able to indulge his newfound passion once things returned to normal at Teg’urnan, if indeed that even happened. He wondered how his father, and Fiornacht, would react when he told him that he wished to leave the con’dehr and carve out a quiet existence for him and Alluria.
Alluria… Caol’nir wished for he thousandth time that he had brought her along. His insistence that she remain in Teg’urnan was for her safety, but he now felt that she would be safest at his side. Of course, he wouldn’t have let her accompany him to the doja, but that would have been a separation of six days rather than these many moons without her touch. She would have found the Seat beautiful, from the gem-encrusted mountain that housed it to the thick blanket of snow upon the World’s Spine. Caol’nir imagined his mate’s first encounter with snow, and wondered if Alluria would enjoy a short journey northward.
A sound akin to a thousand beating drums broke Caol’nir free of his reverie. The elfin warriors were beating their swords against their shields, battle cries piercing the air as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Lormac climbed atop the Gate and knelt, holding the Sala before him. Asherah approached and accepted the Sala, then bestowed a kiss upon Lormac’s forehead, further inciting the crowd.
“He is pledging himself to his queen, and therefore all of Tingu,” Tor explained, having noticed his son’s perplexed face. “He is swearing to give his life in her defense.”
“Like a binding,” Caol’nir murmured, and Tor nodded. “Only he is bound to the land as well.”
Caol’nir’s voice was drowned out by the ever-louder shouts from the elves, who were cheering as Lormac led Asherah from the Gate to their horses. The royal pair turned toward their people and Lormac said a few words, then he grabbed Asherah and kissed her in such a way that made Caol’nir wonder if Lormac considered the Gate an extension of his bedchamber.
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